


A New Dawn

by lindoreda



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Gen, Implied Noctis/Luna, Implied Relationships, Noctis centric, Post-Chapter 14, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8862886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindoreda/pseuds/lindoreda
Summary: At the end of his journey, Noctis gets a surprise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I finished the game a few days ago and the ending was eating away at me. So I opted for an alternate interpretation of events, because this plan sucks and I hate it.

The gods demanded sacrifice.

That wasn’t a new idea for Noctis. He’d watched the Wall slowly drain the life out of his father. And he had suspected the toll the blessing had taken on Luna. Power wasn’t free, and especially not the power of the gods.

For most of his life, people had assumed that he acted the way he did because he didn’t understand that, or didn’t want to. He was just a brat, with no idea of what the people around him sacrificed. It wasn’t like that, but how could he say that and be believed? Even if his fate had just been to inherit his father’s burden, he felt impotent just waiting for the blow to fall, as it must eventually.

In a way, the faster death the gods demanded was more appealing than that slow, painful loss of strength. And after everything he had seen and endured, that they demanded it was no longer surprising. The price for holding the power of both gods and kings in his hands was more than any mortal could pay.

That didn’t mean that shattering into a thousand pieces didn’t hurt. It was worse than Titan’s punches, though the pain faded faster. Or that he didn’t regret that nearly everyone he had ever cared for had been dragged into death with him. What was he dying for, if not to save them?

With his consciousness fading, that was what struck him as the least fair part. Ten years in stasis while the world fell apart. How many had died waiting for him? Their lives felt wasted, if only the gods could have given him the power of the crystal faster. It was one thing to give up his life for the world, and entirely another to give up his life for this one, so emptied of human life. 

It seemed strange that he could still think so clearly after shattering. That he could accept the necessity of his sacrifice while grousing at the gods for not letting him make it sooner. Was this what death was like, an eternity of going over his what ifs?

No thanks.

Something brushed against him, even though he shouldn’t have a physical form anymore.

_ You are worthy, King of Kings,  _ a voice said into his mind, almost grudgingly. It sounded like Leviathan.  _ Just as she said you would be. _

Now if only Altissia hadn’t needed to be destroyed to prove it, Noctis couldn’t help but think wistfully. And maybe a little bitterly.

_ One last time, we will grant you the power of kings,  _ another voice said. Gentiana. No, Shiva.  _ Go, with our final blessing. _

Go where?

The thought had barely coalesced before a familiar rushing sensation filled him, and suddenly he felt too solid. Too warm. Something hard and uneven pressed against his back, with his neck supported, and the idea that he even had a back or neck made no sense. Then, he heard something he never thought he’d hear again.

“Noct! Noct, are you okay?”

It was Prompto’s voice, almost close enough to touch. If you could touch a voice. He tried to respond, but couldn’t seem to open his eyes, or work his tongue.

“Looks like he passed out,” Gladio’s rougher tones answered. “Probably sunstroke. I got him before his head hit the ground.”

Prompto muttered something about pushing the car in this heat, though not loud enough for Gladio to bother responding to it, apparently. A suspicion flashed into his mind, but his head was too muzzy. A side effect of being dead, probably.

“Put him in the back seat,” Ignis suggested. “Maybe we have enough of a signal now to call Hammerhead.”

Once Gladio deposited him into the car, Noctis forced one eye open a crack, and found his suspicion confirmed. Gladio and Prompto stood on either side of the Regalia with Ignis in the driver’s seat, on a very familiar stretch of highway. Somehow, he was back on the day the car had broken down only miles outside of Insomnia. His first thought was that it was a dream.

But no. Gentiana had said that they would grant him the power of kings one last time. One of those powers, he remembered in a rush, was the ability to return to his past. But what use was that, if he was just going to die again, in the same way? Was he supposed to live out his life in a never ending loop of the same weeks on the road, before losing ten years and dying?

“Water,” Noctis managed to croak out, causing his companions to jump. Prompt acted first, practically leaping to his side with a bottle of water, and helping him to drink. Ignis turned aside, his phone pressed to his ear.

“You had us worried there,” Prompto said, as close to a scold as he ever got.

“You should have said something before it got this bad,” Gladio added, his arms folded over his chest in disapproval.

Noctis fought the tears that sprung to the corners of his eyes at this scene. Was it real? Did it matter, as long as it seemed like they were all alive and well again? It was so normal, in a way nothing had been in so long.

Somehow, he managed to get out the expected response. “You would’ve just told me to quit whining,” Noctis said, taking another sip of water. Then a thought struck him. Could he stop the treaty signing? Warn his father? Prevent-

He rubbed his temples.

“You still look unwell,” Ignis declared, pocketing his phone. “Hammerhead is sending a tow truck, so try to rest until then.”

Remembering all the times that he had happened on this road, Noctis asked, “What if we’re ambushed by imperials?”

That earned him a trio of raised eyebrows.

“And how,” Gladio began slowly, as if addressing a child, “Would imperials make it this far into Lucis unchallenged? It’s been decades since they tried anything like that, and never in Lucis.”

“Tenebrae, being in the way, would have something to say about that, I imagine,” Ignis put in.

Noctis’s heart stuttered. Maybe he hadn’t just been sent back to his past self. This was beginning to feel like a different world entirely.

Casually, he said, “Still, it’s getting dark. What if the daemons come out before the tow truck gets here? We'll be sitting ducks out here.”

Their eyebrows shot even higher.

“Daemons are just a bedtime story, aren’t they?” Prompto asked nervously.

“A legend, more like,” Gladio said with a snort. “Maybe you did hit your head after all.”

“Heat stroke can cause some confusion,” Ignis offered, though he looked worried down. “Lie back down and rest, Noct.”

Noctis obeyed, though his heart was pounding. He had been right. This wasn’t just the past. This was an alternate one. A world without daemons, and likely without Ardyn pulling the strings in Niflheim. 

_ The world you created with your sacrifice,  _ Gentiana whispered.

A world where they were all alive and happy, knowing nothing about what they had been through. Only he had traveled. Only he knew.

_ I’m supposed to be dead,  _ he pointed out to her.

_ You gave up your life, yes. But to a worthy King of Kings, the gods can always give it back. _

A few minutes was all it took to establish that the gods had taken everything else. No ring clung painfully to his finger, and neither magic nor arms came at his silent call. Which meant no more ancient kings, no more crystal. That would be an adjustment, but in exchange for his life? He could pay that price at least.

He had only one more question about this new world, and the radio at Hammerhead answered it when he heard Luna’s voice, distorted but still undeniably her. She was talking with anticipation about their upcoming wedding.

“Bet you’re excited to see her, huh?” Prompto nudged his ribs with an elbow, apparently forgetting that he was supposed to be convalescent.

The old Noctis might have downplayed it. Probably had on more than one occasion, actually. But the Noctis who had been run through by an entire armory no longer saw the point in being coy. He was not the same prince who had set out on this journey, molded by danger and loss, and finally his own death. He knew things that he shouldn’t, and wondered if Prompto still had a barcode on his wrist.

But the old world was gone. And he had to live in this new one.

So Noctis smiled.

“Yeah. I am.”


End file.
